


A Fools Emotion

by Weresnake



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Some Humor, more tags will be added, some mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weresnake/pseuds/Weresnake
Summary: For now, it wasn’t obvious what the mans gimmick would be but that piercing gaze told him enough. There was something in how he flung the rowdy masses attempt at measuring him back in their direction with a cool demeanor. A playful sneer widened as he scanned each grimy face until those brilliant eyes rested on Crane.What surprised him, was seeing the others eyes sweep down at him slowly and then back up. It took a second longer to process in his surprise because this was not the kind of critical look he was ever used to. Out of impulse, Cranes eyebrows furrow together with his lips contorting to a deeper frown. He ignores the warmth in his cheeks as he paces back to his corner. Crane could safely say that his interest was snuffed out in an instant.--8--In which Scarecrow grapples with himself and his emotions while Riddler needs protection for the huge target now on his back.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	A Fools Emotion

What a peculiar man he was. 

As the newly caught criminals marched towards being evaluated by those so-called “professionals”, the prisoners of Arkham gawked and jeered at them. Crane could’ve cared less about the prisoners personally, but what interested him was the fresh meats reaction to the crowd. There was the usual assortment of reactions he expected.

The more sane people shrink away from the gawking, the whites of their eyes pale specks of bone cradled in their sockets. They were usually the first to die, for nothing could save them from the makeshift blade slashing their necks open by whatever inmate they accidentally provoke. The panic rattling them was tried and true for they already knew making it to probation was a lost cause. 

Then there were the seasoned criminals, the law shattering alumni of Arkham returning only because they were caught by the Batman for some spectacular show of villainy. In their minds, they were simply coming back from their vacation in Gotham to the dredges of this miserable compound. 

Shoulders squared, faces turned away in feigned disinterest, or looking forward with a stony expression. The fear was familiar to them and in their minds this was just a game, a cycle. In a way they were right. This asylum's system fixed little and fractured more of its residents to the point that swimming in similar misery felt natural. They lived longer without any doubt, but would inevitably die mostly at the hands of a guard... or by something bigger. 

Today, there was an outlier in the line that he could possibly pick out as an obvious example of the latter. A splash of color in the drab that captured much more attention in the inmates. For this, Crane rose from his spot on long thin legs. With each gentle sway of his stride, the other criminals would part like timid fish. While adjusting the thin wireframe of his glasses he noted that the last of the new batch confirmed his suspicion. There was always some tiring gimmick with them too. They ranged from monstrous features to inhuman abilities. For now, it wasn’t obvious what the man's gimmick would be but that piercing gaze told him enough. There was something in how he flung the rowdy masses' attempt at measuring him back in their direction with a cool demeanor. A playful sneer widened as he scanned each grimy face until those brilliant eyes rested on Crane. 

Now, Jonathon was by no means self-conscious. His resting face was a light scowl. Along his jaw and lower cheeks bore deep pockmarks with a scar cutting one of his dark eyebrows. Often times a sterile white light hanging overhead gave his glasses this sinister glare, providing a stark contrast with the dark shadows of his face. In short, he wasn’t a moron to ignore how much he stood out, just like the newcomer staring back. 

What surprised him, was seeing the eyes of the other sweep down at him slowly and then back up. It took a second longer to process in his surprise as this was not the kind of critical look he was ever used to. Not when he was a professor, or even as a psychiatrist for Arkham. Out of impulse, Cranes eyebrows furrowed together with his lips contorted to a deeper frown. He ignored the warmth in his cheeks as he paced back to his corner. Crane could safely say that his interest was snuffed out in an instant. 

\--8—

Hardly an hour passed for the instance to leave his mind entirely. Watching Arkhams new fodder shuffle in had its merits but more pressing matters demanded his attention. As the day winded down, he was rudely interrupted from his reading and escorted by two heavily armed guards back to the dingy, stone hole they called his cell. On the brightside though, the mattress was nicer than most and his back had been acting up when he was subjected to isolation. 

Crane settled into the bed with a groan and mused about how nice it would be to bring the book with him. Alas, he used to maintain a handful of books… That was, until a guard noticed the chemical equations and other notes scribbled on the inside. The very next day every book he owned was confiscated.

Another downside to his living situation was how cold it always was. He had the misfortune of being above Victor Fries’ polar vortex of a cell. The cold seeped through each dense layer of concrete to the above levels. It also served as a good method of keeping the people docile. For Crane, it certainly kept him docile but moreso miserable. This would not have been too surprising to him.

So, with the threadbare blanket draped over his shoulders and with nothing to do, he stared at the wall blankly in some futile attempt to get proper rest. 

He slowly blinked. It helped to keep his mind blank as if he were meditating to get some form of rest. 

He blinked slowly again but for longer, his breathing now following suit in pace. The following moment he felt a little more detached as the sound of the usual guards patrolling past him grew distant. 

The last time he blinked, he swore he could hear something snicker distantly. 

\--8—

Several rows down, Edward lays in bed musing over options. The reality is that he won’t survive the day after everyone find out why he’s here again because it wasn’t the usual.

Oh no. No, no-no. He was in for something considered by most to be out of his character. Riddler, his persona, was hardly a killer. That sort of task was in his nature, as he believed the very act of it, no matter how sensible the reason would be, was still a moronic thing to do. Furthermore, seeing or (god forbid) touching the blood and gore of a human always made him gag. Always. He never went directly after anyone with arguably the exception reserved for the Batman but his point was he never outright murdered anyone. 

Much less murder another villain, better yet a supervillain. One of the higher-profile ones. The kind that scored fanpages devoted to them and even waves of fans that go onto news articles defending them, because of society this or society that- 

Ugh, he couldn’t tell which were trolls fishing for a reaction and which were just delusional but honestly? What was the difference in this day and age….

Now that he was here, it would only be a matter of time before someone found out and he would be found hanging by his od suites green tie. So simply put he needed to stick with someone no one dared to fuck with. 

Someone intelligent, cunning, and powerful. A crook with enough of a reputation to throw around (and tolerate Edwards rambling) to give him some protection.  
In the dark room, his eyes light up and he bolted upright from his laying position.

“Poison Ivy!” 

Wait, no. scratch that. 

Poison Ivy hated him for the most part. If Harley was around she could tolerate him but that was all the more tricky what with the guards being suspicious of any alliances between villains.  
He sagged back into the heavily stained pillow and mentally trudged back to the drawing board. 

Then, a noise caught his ears. A clang of metal hitting the concrete floor and the shrill hissing of gas. Slowly, the rogue rose once again and saw a dense fog waft in just ankle height. Just around the corner, he heard some earsplitting screams then, as if Edward wasn’t spooked enough, a raspy cackle that made his blood turn icy. In the dim lights he picked up a moving shadow of a familiar form. Tall and thin, but with the smooth gait of a creeping phantom. 

It was the guy he noticed when coming back, with the haggard face and permanent scowl. Except, there was a smell that burned his senses that wafted in from the hallway and he wheezed as it filled his lungs. When he blinked hard to avoid rubbing his eyes the room he’s in blurred and wobbled like a mirror room at a carnival. The light behind their head was blinding enough that it rendered most of them to a haunting silhouette with sharp corners and claws. 

He noticed the eyes glowing back at him like twin moons, despite the shadow they’ve become. Those eyes drilled into his soul and reminded him of every night terror he ever had from when he was a child and onward. Mere monsters under the bed, or horror flicks he caught on tv during the witching hour could not compare to whatever that was wandering just outside his cell. Edward froze like a deer with the headlights for eyes that pinned him to his bed, but the man (or was it?) simply flashed a Cheshire grin and walked along without another word. No longer after the cryptid wandered into his vision the alarms overhead came to life and blared their warnings, rousing him out of the waking nightmare. 

He finally exhaled loudly as he didn’t notice the breath he was holding and tried to rub the gooseflesh on his skin. What a show, huh? 

Exactly the kind of thing he needed watching his back until everything blew over. 

All he needed now was to find out what the hell that was.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Had to wrap this up bc my roommate decided to start cooking some fish she left out to thaw after smoking a fuckload of some nasty smelling weed and the combined smells are making me nauseous. 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated :D, if you want to yell at me over twitter my account is: @Shit_bish


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